Fire and Ice
by lycanus1
Summary: The one where Loki tries to do the right thing and warn off a feisty, young admirer and things get pretty steamy ...


**Disclaimer:** Everything and anyone recognizable _still_ belongs to Paramount Pictures, Marvel Entertainment & Marvel studios - more's the pity ...

**Warning:** _AU. Contains fairly strong language. _

**A/N:** Now before some of you start thinking, "Hey ! I think I _may_ have read this before somewhere ..." you're right. Lately, I've been rooting through some of my old, deleted King Arthur chapters and after a fair bit of tinkering, ended up with this. I think, well, I hope it works ...

_**XXXXXXXXX**_

_**Fire and Ice**_

"_Oh, for Norns' sake !_" Gitte swore furiously.

She definitely wasn't in the best of moods, having decided to try and help Ragnar by giving the bar a much needed clean. Having already cleared and wiped down the shelves, she'd taken all of the drinking vessels through to the kitchen for a thorough wash. By the time she'd got back to return the tankards and goblets to their rightful place, she discovered someone had taken the ladder in her absence. To say she wasn't best pleased was clearly an understatement. In fact, she was fuming.

So now, here she was standing on the tips of her toes, stretching her lithe, willowy frame in an attempt to return the vessels back where they belonged and cursing the fact that being shorter than average height wasn't conducive to her current task. She gave an angry _"humph !" _and stepped back to glare furiously at the top shelf, which she was barely able to reach and tiredly wiped the back of her hand against her forehead, unaware that it left a dark smudge upon her fair skin. Fed up, she huffed grumpily, then scraped her dark auburn tresses back into a messy bun, before grabbing the nearest tankard once more. She stretched and attempted to put it back on the shelf, then suddenly became aware of someone staring at her.

"Be with you in a moment ..." she gasped, only for the tankard to slip from her fingers and smash into pieces on the stone floor. In a fit of pique, she stamped her foot angrily. "Odin's balls ! If I ever catch up with the good-for-nothing bastard who took my bloody ladder ..."

An amused snort directly behind her, reminded her that she was not alone. Turning and about to speak, she froze abruptly when she saw who was standing before her ...

Loki.

"O-Oh !" She suddenly felt very self-conscious of the way she looked. Her russet hair in complete disarray; the way her dark purple dress clung uncomfortably to her body and the sheen of perspiration on her smooth skin. To make matters worse, she could feel sweat drops trickling down into the deep valley between her breasts, which were heaving agitatedly and the fact that his sharp green eyes seemed fascinated by it didn't help matters either. She felt her cheeks become heated and chewed her lower lip nervously.

Typical, she mused in dismay. Just typical. After months of trying to subtly gain his attention, for the first time they were truly alone together, the object of her affections just had to see her at her worst. The Norns undoubtedly had a sick and cruel sense of humour. In fact, Gitte was hard pressed to choose what was worse, having to endure the darkly handsome second prince's cool indifference whenever he attended the tavern with his brother and his friends or this … finally being alone with Loki and being scrutinized thoroughly by a pair of highly observant, extremely intelligent, emerald eyes. His gaze made her feel terribly self-conscious, as if he could reach into her soul and read her innermost thoughts and desires. And what she desired more than anything, was him.

Unlike the other serving wenches Ragnar employed, Gitte cared naught for wealth, possessions or status. No, she was more interested in the man himself. Wanted to learn what made him tick. What his interests were. Whilst the other girls were far more taken with the Thor, the Golden Prince and Odin's beloved heir, Gitte had instantly been captivated by the All-Father's second son. The one most of the Aesir were quick to vilify and condemn. The Dark One. The one known as the Liesmith. The Trickster. The God of Mischief and Lies.

Where Thor, the God of Thunder, was strappingly built and was regarded by all to be perfect in both looks and character, Loki was considered inferior in every way by the Aesir. Yet the tall, slender, athletically built scholar had been the one who'd beguiled Gitte. What the others deemed unworthy or imperfect, she couldn't help being drawn to. In her eyes, the green-eyed, raven-locked, pale-skinned mage with his lean, finely drawn, noble features was a strikingly handsome man and far more attractive than his older brother. She preferred the way he moved with silent, predatory grace, his quiet intelligence and courteous manner, as well as his dry wit and quick, ascerbic, sarcastic tongue. He was always guarded, wary of everyone but his brother and everything about Loki fascinated her. Loki was unpredictable and that made him dangerous … and so very desirable.

"I-If it's Thor or Hogun you're after, th-they're not here ... Neither's Volstagg. He went off somewhere with Sif and that smarmy bugger, Fandra- " she began huskily, only for him to interrupt her.

"I'm not here for them." He slowly raised his head and stared at her intently. His gaze was steady. Piercing. "Came to see you. We need to talk."

"M-Me ? W-Why ?"

Wide-eyed she briefly met his gaze and desperate for something to do, she reached out for a goblet and began to toy with it. His eyes narrowed impatiently and before she realized what was happening, he stalked behind the bar to where she stood, plucked the vessel from her hand and placed it on the top shelf with a smirk. Gitte raised a finely arched, unimpressed eyebrow then passed him a couple of tankards and nodded towards the top shelf. It was his turn to raise an enquiring eyebrow, before silently doing as he was bid.

"You know why I'm here," he stated bluntly, the tone of his voice quiet, slowly turning his head to look down at her, taking in the slender frame with its generous curves; the stray tendrils of tawny hair which clung damply to frame her face and neck; the huge, bright eyes that eyed him warily. Never mind the way the tip of her tongue had darted to gloss over full, luscious lips. Lips that he yearned to taste ... to feel ... to devour ... and to possess. Yet knew he wouldn't. That he must not.

She slowly shook her head in denial, "I ... I don'- "

"_Don't _lie to me." There was an edge to his pleasant voice. A huskiness which held a slight trace of anger. "I know when I'm being deceived and I will not be lied to. _Not_ by you ..."

"I swear, on all things sacred, I'm not," she implored. "I don't know- "

His hard, icy gaze seemed to soften. Appeared warmer. But only for a moment. A brief instant which made her believe that she might have imagined it. "I'm not the man you believe me to be, little one ... I'm _not_ a good man. Ask anyone … They'll tell you I'm a bastard through and through. You know damn well I've the worst reputation of any man here. That I'm cold. Ruthless. Heartless. Cruel. Vindictive. That I'll be bound to no one. That I will be tied down to no woman. And no woman in her right mind would wish to be tied to such a man ... Can you honestly say that _you_ want to be with such a beast ?"

"I don't believe you're as bad as you claim ..." Gitte spoke softly. "That you're as bad as you say- "

"No ? ... You're right. I'm far, far worse than that. Believe me, I'm the embodiment of your worst living nightmare. And if you had the sense the Norns gave you, you'd fear me. And rightly so ... You need to forget about me, Gitte, for your own good. Whatever you see in me, it isn't worth pursuing. I'm not the one you seek ... What you need ... Or what you should want- "

Gitte stiffened. Her soft brown eyes darkened and glittered with fury. "_Bollocks !_ Who are you to say who or what I need or want ? What gives you the gods damned right to say tha- ?"

"You're nineteen ... A mere child ... You haven't a fucking clue, girl ... You're far too young to know such things. What a _woman_ needs ... desires ... wants ..." he growled angrily, his lean, sinewy frame towering over her. Loki's manner was intimidating, but Gitte was too far gone in her own anger to pay heed. Too incensed by his attitude, despite the small voice in her head insisting that she was beneath him in every way and had no right to act or speak to him the way she did. That he was a son of the Royal household and therefore, was entitled to her respect and obedience. Not an impudent, fiery tirade from a lowly serving wench far too besotted to guard her tongue before her elders and betters. Yet Gitte chose to ignore the tiny voice and allowed her heart to rule her head, unwittingly revealing the envy she'd always kept well hidden ... and how badly she longed for him.

"I may be a great deal younger than those haggard looking wenches you tumble upstairs, but I'm old enough to know my own mind. To make my own decisions. To have the right to choose who I want," she spat, her slender body trembling in fury. "You underestimate me, if you choose to believe I don't ..._ I__'ve_ wanted you ... craved you ... desired you ... yearned for you ever since that day your brother and the Warriors Three dragged you here after that quest last Spring. All those months, I've carried these feelings for you ... Wishing ... Hoping ... Hel ! Even praying that you'd actually notice me for once ... Do you realize how much it hurts that you don't "see" me ? The pain I feel every time you disappear with one of the other girls ? How I long for you to choose me ... even for just one night ? Is that too much to hope for ... ? Or am I clearly not good enough for you, my lord ... ?"

She stood directly in front of him, hands on hips, chin raised and glaring at him defiantly. Giving him firsthand experience of the Nordic dragon fire she was reputed to have. Mute, he appeared slightly stunned by her unexpected, fiery attack. Completely taken aback by the passion he'd unwittingly aroused within her.

"Reckon I was right ... You truly believe a lowly wench from the lowlands to be unworthy of your company and bed. That I'm inferior ... Not worthy of your notice. You don't have to say anything, my lord ... Your silence and the ice in your eyes condemn you. Well, you've had your say ... Warned me off. I won't bother you with my childish attentions any more. So, unless there's anything you desire … A tankard of mead or a flagon of wine perhaps ? Then I see no legitimate reason for you to stay ... After all, you might just catch something breathing the same air as me. Just ... just_ leave _!"

He glared at her through narrowed eyes. "Have you _quite_ finished ?" he drawled, his athletic frame coiled with tension.

"Yes !" she snapped.

"Well, I haven't ... Now you've got that bile off your chest, you're going to hold that vicious, barbed tongue of yours and listen. You know _nothing_ about me, you stubborn, little hellcat ! And you dare judge me ? That I never "saw" you ... ? Huh ! If only you knew ..." he muttered bitterly. "You claim that I'm blind to you ? You couldn't be more wrong ... Ever since that damned day my oaf of a brother dragged me here and you spilt that ewer over me, you're all I ever see. You are constantly on my mind, Gitte ... When I wake, you're the first thing I "see." The first waking thought I have and the last one I have before I sleep. And even then, there's no respite. I've had no peace ... you invade my dreams as well." He ran an impatient hand through his sleek raven locks and glared at her.

"Damn it, girl ! You've become my weakness ... Thanks to you I can't focus on my studies or my magic. Do you even know how lethal a mage can be when he's unable to concentrate ? Well, do you ? I'm a danger to myself and those around me. Not only have you turned me into a fucking liability, you've made me do something I swore I'd never feel. You've made me fucking want you ... I crave you so much that it physically hurts ... I ache for you, you stupid wench ... _I ache_ ... So, do not dare assume that I haven't "seen" you. That I do not want ..._ I have seen and I do want !"_ Loki paused and saw the dazed look on her face and the hope that began to flicker in the depths of her limpid eyes. Hope he knew he'd have to snatch from her and crush. He looked away, not wanting to see the hurt in those dark, expressive eyes caused by what he was about to say.

"But just because I've "seen" and desire you, it doesn't mean a thing. Nothing's changed ... I'm not such a fool to allow anything to happen. Yes, I want you but there's no way in hel I'm going to act on those feelings."

Gitte inhaled sharply then stated quietly, "Then_ you__'re_ a coward, Loki ... A fool."

His head immediately snapped up, his stance aggressive. Full of anger. "You dare call me a coward ?"

"Yes ... I dare ... You're a damn coward. Why is it so wrong for you to be happy ? Why shouldn't someone care for you ? Love you ... ? You have the exact same right to those things as every single person in this bloody realm. Your brother's happy with the Lady Sif. He's cared for and loved. Why should you be treated any different to him ? Why do you deny yourself ? Thor's not half as bright as you, yet he didn't deny himself all those things when he realized how much he loves Sif and how deeply she loves him. Why are you so insistent on refusing what I willingly and freely offer ?"

"Because I have bad blood running through my veins, you blind, little fool. Because I'm incapable of loving anyone and there's nothing in me that's worth loving … Because I _will_ end up hurting you ... At some point I'll hurt you and you will hate me for it ... and that's the last thing I ever want to do- "

"And you're not hurting me now ? Your rejection's slowly killing me, for mercy's sake. Gods ! Maybe I should let Fandral have his way with me ... At least he isn't afraid take what he desires- " she said heatedly.

"I swear by the Norns, if that pox-riddled weasel so much as dares look, never mind breathe on you, I will kill him, do you hear me ? I mean it, Gitte, stay away from him, or I won't be responsible for m- "

"D'ya know what, Loki ? You _can't_ have it both ways. You say you want me, then you have the nerve to say that you won't follow through ? Well, fuck you, _my _lord ..." she yelled, seething. "Fuck _you!_" The passion and anger radiated from her. Gitte attempted to stalk by him only to feel his hand grab and tighten around her upper arm.

"Let. Go. Of. Me," she snarled through clenched teeth. "_Now _!"

He gave a sudden tug and she stumbled and fell against him. The next thing she knew was that she was sat on the counter, legs splayed and he was standing between them. He looked calm, yet there was an icy fire in his striking green eyes. He looked feral. Predatory. Like a powerful feline about to spring on its unsuspecting prey.

He raised a hand and gently ran his forefinger across her high cheekbone, down the graceful curve of her neck. His hand skimmed across a full breast, paused briefly at her waist before travelling further down to rest on her thigh. Gitte trembled at his touch.

"Now, why the hell would_ I _want to do that ? Isn't this what _you_ wanted me to do all along, my feisty, little Valkyrie ? Fuck you ? To shove _my_ dick into the soft, honey-sweet folds of your pussy ? To hit _your _sweet spot with every single, hard thrust of my swollen cock ? To make you so wet that your juices run slick down those lovely, strong, thighs of yours ? Hmmm ?" Just to prove his point, Loki's hand gently caressed her inner thigh, causing her purple skirts to ride up, revealing long, toned, slender legs. Unable to stop her body responding to his words, Gitte writhed and moistened her dry lips.

"You wish, you arrogant bastard !" she snapped, hating the fact that his words left her so needy for his touch. She suddenly felt his cool hand upon the silky-smooth skin of her thigh and gasped sharply. And that's when he struck. Lightning fast. Leaning ever closer, Loki wrapped her legs around his waist and mercilessly ground his hard, leather-clad length against her heated core as he claimed her lips possessively. Hungrily. Skilfully wearing down any resistance she had until her soft, voluptuous curves were crushed against his hard, muscular, armour-clad torso.

All Gitte could do was cling wantonly to Loki as her slim fingers became tangled in his long, raven mane. And all they could hear were the sounds of their own breaths harsh and ragged; the roar of blood rushing through their veins and the rapid sound of their hearts beating erratically ...

_**FINIS**_


End file.
